The stranger in front of me sat just a meter away, tapping away at her paper, seemingly anxious as I sat there, staring off. She slowly pushed back her cardboard-colored hair before taking a slow, deep breath and smiling one of those big, happy, im-so-sorry-for-you smiles, finally grabbing my attention a bit more so she could speak.
"Describe to me how you're currently feeling, it doesn't have to be anything big."
"I feel alone" I fiddled with the strings on my jeans.
"What do you mean by that? Alone?" She began writing things down.
"I guess I just feel.." my breath got caught in my throat and I tugged on my strings, "like I have all these people around me, wondering how I am, caring a whole ton, wishing they could fix me, but none you know.." suddenly the air was thick, my lungs were tight, and the room was heavy, "you know...give a shit."
"Give a..." she mumbled under her breath, finishing writing her sentence before looking back up at me, smiling widely again and I just knew her next sentence was gonna be all spiritual or therpisty, "But they do care, especially the ones that have stayed around throughout this journey and cared enough to stick with you," she paused, thinking of her next words well to this impressionable teen, "There's always going to be the ones that don't care, but it's your job to sort through them and pick out who are your friends." she put down her pen and nodded at me.
"I just feel like there's never going to be a going back. It's always going to be this, It's always going to be 'Miles the sick kid'" I huffed, all of a sudden red-faced and worked up, "There's a before and there's and after. And now we are in the after."
"I don't quite understand what you mean by that, would you care to explain?
"There's the moment before you get told when life seems okay when nothing is the limit, every day is endless. Then in seconds, it's the after, and there's no going back no matter how much you wish and pray and hope to whatever god you believe in. There's no going back. Your life is now stuck in the after."
She sat there, then the ding went off, one hour was up. We had barely spoken, mostly about weak small things, and just barely dipped into the real problems.
"Thank you so much." I smiled widely, standing up and reaching for the door.
"I'm sorry."
"Yeah, me too"
YOU ARE READING
Coming to Terms
Teen Fiction"There's the before and the after" "I don't quite understand what you mean by that, would you care to explain?" "There's the moment before you get told when life seems okay when nothing is the limit, every day is endless. Then in seconds, it's the...
